The Cottage

Day 26; a small sliver of moon is left in the sky. My chart says my period is due and I feel the symptoms; a bit heavy and bloated, I want quiet and rest. My husband is starting to look at me funny, too.

He bent over me at my workstation this morning and took a huge whiff as though he was smelling my shampoo, but I know he was smelling my blood. “You tasted like pennies the other day,” he murmured quietly before moving over to his desk and going through his morning ritual of emptying his pockets of keys, phone, wallet and notebook. Passing behind me again to start some of his machines and computers, he bent down and whispered, “When we were in the sunbeam.” I smirked at my screen thinking, “Yeah, I figured that’s what you were talking about”.

I tried to be quiet and professional in the lab. After all, we were the founders and directors of the research facility and prominent in our fields. We needed to keep a low profile and not appear eccentric. We could not behave like teenagers at work when we were retirement aged. I went back to work, but in the privacy of my own thoughts, I pictured the bright sun centered on our bed last Sunday afternoon and how blue and green the afterimages had burned behind my eyelids when I squeezed them shut. It occurred to me that it would be there again this afternoon while I was here at work. I sat up straighter in my chair and clenched my legs together remembering our sweaty interlude in that sunbeam a few days ago. Then I got back to work.

Just then, he came bustling back through the room and brushed past me to settle down at his desk. I’m a busy woman, so I swiveled my chair to face him, and got right to the point, “So, do you want to go to the cottage this weekend, then, or what?”

I had to laugh at the adorably stricken look on his face as he breathed out the phrase “oh yeah baby I really do…” in one rush of sound. His eyes seemed to open wider as he realized I was giving him my full attention. His lips parted and his perfect white grin blossomed as he saw my gaze shift from his eyes to his mouth. When I looked back up into his eyes, they were burning with a turquoise fire.

Then my mind started racing with To Do lists. Setting jobs in the lab on autopilot while I’m gone for a few days. Luckily, the blood samples are packed away for now while we do data analysis on the last set of experiments. He will pack my food and supplements as always. Feeds me like a prize racehorse, protein within minutes of waking, colourful salads at lunch, the whole deal. Oprah employs a whole team of staff to get what I’ve had for decades. Of course, we both want to prolong my life to make our time together last. Immortality and a dread of life without me make my husband very motivated. He dashes around scanning my path for danger or tripping hazards. It gets a bit irritating at times; maybe I want to stumble through a forest or fall on the ice occasionally. His anti-aging cocktails appear to be working. At first, I obligingly swallowed them to keep his hopes up, but after years of longevity research, his program has proven remarkably effective. I can pass for 20 years younger than my current age with the proper clothing and makeup. Even still, the difference in our ages is becoming apparent and more difficult to explain away. We try to make him look older with longer hair and nerdy clothes, but colleagues are noticing, and commenting. About ten years ago, we built our own private lab on an island off the Pacific Northwest and settled down to do our own research in-house with a team of staff on short contracts.

As I age, I become fatalistic about all these efforts to extend my puny life. I know that I’m a fruit fly when compared to the yawning span of eternity that my husband faces after I am gone. That’s why I drink the green tea and the wheat grass and the protein powders, and take the supplements; for his sake. Personally, I’m more interested in haematology than longevity. My idea of excitement is gazing at blood through an electron microscope and taking pictures of how it behaves. Especially my husband’s blood and the blood of his family; which I have studied for years without fully describing all its properties.

Day 27; even less moon tonight. The excitement of planning our trip to the cottage occupied us all day. My lover hovered and fussed. We both reminded each other of things to bring or do before leaving. There is a lot of preparation required to go to the cottage because it’s on an island and once you get there, you’re there for the duration. So anything you forget is out of the question. We made plans to leave after work on Friday. A pile of supplies formed in the entryway of our house. My attentive husband started menu planning and selected some wines. At the lab today, he kept casually brushing up against me and managed to press me against the counter for a long kiss when no one else was in the room. I guided his hands to my heavy, tender breasts and he massaged them from underneath, jiggling their weight.

Day 28; I started the day feeling normal. As the day progressed, a tender low pressure started heavy in my pelvis. He picked me up from the lab with the car loaded, gassed up, and ready to go. The sun was still high when we got to the boat at seven and my back was stiffening up. It only took 20 minutes to get the car unloaded, make sure the boat was ship shape, untie and launch. We worked together; passing bundles and bags, touching hands and making eye contact as much as possible. I made a point of saying his name often because I know that turns him on. We settled in for the short crossing to the cottage as the sky began to color. Arriving always feels like the island is welcoming us, celebrating our arrival.

When we reached the dock, shadows were lengthening. We unloaded the boat in silence and I took one big load up to the cottage. I decided to let him do the rest while I used the bathroom and started to unpack. I saw a brown smudge when I wiped but I knew there wouldn’t be much more tonight. Before we started up the generator or lit a fire, we decided to sit on the porch to enjoy the last rays of the setting sun and watch the colors fade into the night sky.

I kicked my shoes off and went down on to the grass to connect with the earth of our sanctuary. While the birds fluttered around in the bushes, I did a few forward folds to stretch my lower back. I let gravity pull my head and shoulders down until I heard the clunk of my spine releasing. He came up behind me and gently held my hips to steady me while pressing his face right against my rear taking a huge breath. His sense of smell is acute and tuned to my scent after years of love. I felt his hot breath through my yoga pants. Then he stood against me from behind and ground his crotch against the warm spot. When I stood up, he guided me backward to the porch swing and signed contentedly as I draped my legs over his lap. We watched the bats darting among the trees as dusk thickened and listened to the forest settle in for the night. Tomorrow we would enjoy complete seclusion.

Day 1; dark, quiet night, new moon. He must’ve carried me inside, because my next memory is of being jostled out of my clothes and tucked under the duvet. His hand went under my chin, which I took to be a request for saliva and mustered up a mouthful. He reached from behind and carefully wiped it into every fold in my crack, then nestled his cock in from behind. I arched my back to spoon more tightly against him and murmured his name to let him know I was paying attention. He stirred his cock from side to side by rocking my hip forward and pulling it back toward him. I gave him a few long squeezes to let him know I was still paying attention. Occasionally he would make a few thrusts to stay hard and for a while, we drifted in a tantric trance. Eventually, he started to get livelier; his penis got harder and he started pushing more sharply. I figured I might as well get on the ride if it was leaving the station. I spread my legs apart, but that made his penetration too deep for my poor swollen uterus. I tried another angle and found a way to get his thrusts to poke forward toward my g spot instead of up against my uterus. I squeezed my clit between my legs and wriggled while he rocked behind me in a smooth sensuous squirming motion. His movements started to get more erratic, the thrusts more like heaving waves. I felt a wave of happiness that he could find such pleasure in a simple late night cuddle like this; such sweet easy joy in our closeness after so many years. I reached back to cup his head and my fingers went into his hair. I hauled whatever part of his face I could get toward me and kissed his forehead, eye, and cheek. His mouth suddenly met mine and he let out a low rumbling groan that blew my cheeks open and made me laugh back into his mouth. I knew he was getting real close because his abs started to quiver, so I gave him a final surprise by throwing my top leg over his body and pulling him tighter against me from behind. This really did it for him and I felt his butt muscles tighten against my leg. He must have suddenly realized my legs were spread apart because his hand slid to my vulva and he mashed it against my pubic bone. I let out a gasp that made him rear up so high that I was almost suspended in mid air draped over his body on my back. We settled back down with me on my side again and I clamped down hard, arching my back to give him every inch I had to plunge into. His movements were even more wild and I smiled into the dark as I felt him go over the edge and press in deep as he could get. His penis spasmed inside me and I discovered that I was closer to my own orgasm than I’d realized. He pulled my face toward his for a kiss that was hot with lust and I was gone; everything relaxed and I went into a tingly energy rush that spread down my legs and forced them tighter together. One hand stroked me slowly and his other arm held me tight as I squirmed against him. Eventually, I settled down enough to drift into sleep encircled by his arms and filled with his body.

The next morning, I felt heavy and swollen and was greeted with a bright red tissue when I wiped after using the toilet. It’s always a welcome sight to see another period right on time according to my charts. The sun was shining on the tub, so I decided to slide right into an Epsom salt bath. I rustled through our collection of essential oils and picked out clary sage for menstrual cramps and geranium because it’s the best aphrodisiac I know. Something about geranium puts me into an altered state of luxurious arousal. In the tub, I let my mind go blank. Random thoughts surfaced like bubbles, but I set them free by imagining them floating out the window and up into the blue sky.

I stuck my Diva Cup in after the bath, giving it the required 360-degree twist to ensure the suction, and went looking for some clothes and food. He found me in the kitchen fiddling with the kettle and immediately started pouring out my tonics and mixing my smoothie. He gives me vitamin E and fish oil and I suspect he gives me herbal blood thinners too. Not garlic, though; garlic breaks down old red blood cells and this is something my husband’s kind cannot abide.

“Here’s today’s smoothie”, he pretended to be a fancy waiter, “protein powder to strengthen your muscles,” then pulled me against his body and brought my hand to his nose. He kissed each finger as he listed the other ingredients, “and beet juice with ginger, carrot, and celery to warm your blood.” His eyes half closed as though he was smelling my geranium oil. I was still a little light headed from the bath, but managed to snatch my hand away with a laugh and suggest a walk in the forest. He made me take my smoothie along and held my hand to his nose most of the hike.

When we got back, I felt heavy and swollen. I checked my diva cup to find it half-full of nice bright blood. He’d probably be interested in seeing this, but usually waits for the second cup when the flow is really fresh. I hesitated about calling him in because I like a bit of privacy when I can get it. I cackled, “heeheehe, consider it a blood sacrifice,” as I dumped the teaspoon worth like a witch casing a spell on my sink. I rinsed my cup and laughed at myself, “silly me, a scientist has no business meddling with the life force,” I scolded into the mirror as I wiped down the sink. The cup slid around real slick when I put it back in and twisted it into place. My fingers came out bloody and I knew he’d smell it no matter how much I washed. I was definitely feeling crampy and congested by then. “Its officially Day One” I announced when I got back to the kitchen and he nodded from the island where he was whipping up my next meal; a colourful salad and salmon filet. He’s so cute to watch in the kitchen, since his quick movements and excessive strength often get in the way of cooking. He’ll be scraping pesto out of a jar, and it will suddenly go flying into the pot he’s holding it over, or he’ll be chopping vegetables and go right through the cutting board. I climbed on to a bar stool to watch the show and he put a tea of bitter herbs in front of me. I’m to sip this slowly while the salmon broils to prepare my stomach for digestion. He gave the dressing one last whisk and drizzled my plate. Then he slid onto the bar stool next to me bringing my hand to his mouth as though to kiss it like a gentleman. Instead, he licked my fingertips like a weirdo and I burst out laughing.

I got a glass of beer with lunch and he made sure I ate all the fish. “To keep your fur shiny”, he said groping my crotch and tickling under my arms before patting me on the head. For dessert, he got to suck my fingers and we flirted about what to do for the afternoon. He wanted to check my Diva Cup right away. I tried to persuade him to put some music on and let me read my book for a while, but he followed me to the bathroom door and this time I handed over the cup. He brought it to his nose like a wine connoisseur and took a sip. “Yep”, he pronounced me ripe and ready to enjoy. Ah sweetheart, I guess my afternoon plans are decided, then.

I got one last pee, a quick shower, and then I was ready to let him at me. He put our well-used black towel down on the bed and made a nest of pillows for me to lay in with covers for my shoulders. I laid flat on my back to take the burden of gravity off my organs and let him snuggle down between my legs. He immediately clamped on and began to suckle. Ah, the feeling is so divine; this is why I like going to the cottage on the new moons. I felt muscles and ligaments loosen. Its like he’s a spiritual surgeon sucking the pain out of me. I began to squirm deeper into the pillows and he let go to check on me. His face was bloody, but he wiped most of it into my pubic hair before climbing up for a kiss. I tasted the metallic tang of my own blood and remembered the pennies.

Sensing that I was relaxed enough, he climbed aboard to press the end of his shaft against my uterus for a few long massages before clamping on for another suck. It did feel tender as I started messing around; squeezing everything tight and then pushing out my whole clitoris, making it puffy. Alternating between squeezing and pushing is the best way to get up a plateau quicker. But I made a mistake and left it pushed out for too long. Too sensitive, too quick, almost painful and he had caught on to my predicament. He raised his head again to tease me about it and I noticed the blood smeared on his cheeks and my thighs. He spread his hand wide across my lower belly and pressed down on my uterus. Ah, it felt like a hard lump in there and it seemed to throb with a pulse of its own, like a second heart. I started squirming again as I realized that he was licking his smeared red lips and watching me with those bright, blue eyes. He was so busy enjoying my blood that he hadn’t noticed how far along my arousal has gotten. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was thinking about making me simmer like that, so I grabbed my nipples and squeezed hard while trying to rub up against him. Aie, too swollen, everything was engorged before he even got started. I tried to pull away, but he must have decided that its usually better to get me off sooner rather than delaying it too long because he went back to work, pushing my whole vulva from side to side with his mouth. I figured, “Why hold back?” and started to thrust and grind up against his mouth. Next time I squeezed, the clenching spasms started coming in waves and I changed position to press myself down into the bed. He stayed clamped on me like a limpet on the seawall and I rocked from side to side in a haze of pleasure. Once I settled down, I lay flat again and let my uterus finish flopping around. He broke the suction and rested his cheek on my pubic bone. He appeared to be listening to something. “Are you done for now?” I eventually got the breath to ask him, “Then go wash your face you gruesome monster.” He laughed and hauled himself off the bed, shouting back, “You’re the perv who lets me do it.” Yes well, he had a point there. I rested and tried to sense my uterus pumping out the blood with smooth muscle contractions. The congested feeling was gone, and I felt some zingy residual cramps that were more exciting than painful. I dozed off with the towel between my legs in case of leaks, gazing out at the fluffy clouds floating by in the blue square of sky. He came back for more every half hour or so. Like a humming bird hitting the feeder.

Day 7; the moon is waxing again and we’ve been back at work for the past week. Today I observed some fertile mucus. Must tell my darling when he gets home from hunting. He welcomes each sign of my continued cycles as proof that he’s keeping me young.

Day 8; We are planning our next trip to the cottage for my fertile phase and I’m already getting so excited. It’s not just the estrogen talking, or the full moon coming. It’s the anticipation; there won’t be any blood for my husband this weekend, but plenty of slippery fun for us both. I thought up a new game; every time he sits in a chair, I get to climb onto his lap for a ride.

By Bella Maria

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